


Mell nín

by Vanja86



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Romance, Slice of Life, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8002861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanja86/pseuds/Vanja86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the world where every union of elf & human irrevocably changed Middle - Earth Legolas should know that his late blooming mark signified something no less monumental. A multi-chapter story in the Soulmate - identifying mark alternate universe. [Darcy x Legolas] Read, enjoy and review! [Reposted from fanfiction]</p><p>This is a repost from fanfiction with original comments</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Every man regardless of stature and importance, be that a humble swineherd or prominent advisor knows the Firstborns are much different from the mortal race. It's an ingrained awareness born of limited experience and understood in a vague sort of way. Not dissimilar to the manner in which humans comprehend the world. The certainty of the sunrises in the east and sunsets in the west unquestionable and yet the details and mechanics fuzzy at best.

The differences in the lifespans, characteristics and abilities joined together with unique and defined culture that pronounced certain aspects of elves lives too private to discuss openly only widened the gap and increased the misconceptions.

Needless to say it is not surprising that the world at large knows little about their childhood that is as blissful as it is short coming to an end sometime around 50th year when puberty commences and lasts another half century after which they emerge fully grown.

Mating customs are even more mysterious, obscure - the only surety in the fact the monogamy is practiced and adultery is unthinkable even though elves marry early in life.

Of the process in which the perfect match is chosen the world knows nothing. It is not a practice that can be learned or set of rules and guidelines that can be copied. It is a mystical gift the Valar granted to their first children, one that brought great happiness for every elf is either born with a soul bond or marked with it later in life.

It was a guaranteed occurrence, a sure thing as proven in elves' numerous discussions, studies and essays but there were days when Legolas doubted it will ever happen to him.

As a child he was not worried about the lack of a handwritten line, the first sentence that his destined will say to him when they finally meet. It was not uncommon to get it in the late childhood or early adolescence as soulmates tends to be close in age but not too close considering how rare elven youngsters are. As the years passed and the number of friends that did not have text etched on their skin dwindled, a slight tension found its way into his spirit transforming in time to uneasiness and later, when he was the only one without a fated match, flat out worry.

He could see it sometimes in his father's eyes as well. His brows furrowed as he followed him with his heavy stare pondering the consequences of the situation.

He was aware that throughout elven history there were examples of late matches but these happened in ancient times and tended to reshape the world. Lúthien who recognised her mortal lover when he called her Tinúviel is the most prominent and well-known example. The only other one known to him is Idril. Both married men.

Sometimes he wonders if his father would prefer if he did not have a match at all rather than having a mortal one. Falling for a woman leads to a quick death in grief and an eternity in the undying lands without the other half of the soul. It is glorious when it lasts but painful when it ends.

 _Well, that is a moot point now._ He touched the curly and somewhat messy writing that started at his side and disappeared somewhere on his back ribs. Funny, he always imagined that if it ever appears he will immediately know notified by some inner hunch or gut feeling or searing pain similar to the one humans feel when they tattoo themselves. Nothing of the sort happened.

He was running for days through the forest aiming to cross Anduin in Carrock while on his way to Rivendell via the High Pass. Time was crucial as he was tasked with informing Gandalf and Elrond of Gollum's escape. The foul creature scurried away hidden by darkness, in the chaos and panic created by the Orks' and spiders' attacks. It did not look good. These were carefully prepared skirmishes. Planned actions suggested a leader. Leader suggested agenda? Driven by worry he did not stop until he had to.

During one of such stops he took off his tunic to brush away the accumulated grime for the first time spying the long awaited mark.

 _To have a mirror to decipher the script, to learn what she will speak..._ Legolas wished, the initial surprise giving way to curiosity.  _What kind of person is she to write upside down?_  He wondered as it was proven that the placement, the style, the handwriting said as much about the author as the text itself. The letters looked a bit uncertain as is she knew how they looked like but wasn't confident in penning them yet.  _Does her family not believe in educating women? Did she have to learn in secret?_

Eyes shining and appearance flushed he donned the clothes, his journey fuelled by the excitement and elation coursing in his veins* 

* * *

* During the war of the one ring it is remarked that Legolas is the lightest of heart of all of the fellowship members. Clearly he is part of the race that is well predisposed to this kind of attitude but I thought it a good idea to give him a real reason to be merry.

A/N - this was tormenting me for 2 weeks now! I hope that with this finished it will let go of me as I was thinking about this pairing and story while going to and coming from work, cooking, cleaning and sleeping.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Legolas maneuvered around the bustling crowd admiring how much the city improved from the last time he saw it. Returning from his journey to first Fangorn forest and then Helm's Deep he bid farewell to Gimli on the lowest level where the Dwarves of Erebor dwelled. They just finished building the new gate for the city, an indestructible behemoth casted from mithril and steel. From the snippets of conversation he caught they were now preparing to fix the layout of the city, a project his dearest friend was much interested in.

Climbing to the upper levels he aimed for the shopping district that catered to the nobility specialising in luxury and quality items. Although not as good as the elven pieces anything purchased there would still be a suitable gift for the queen.

Looking around the square he approved of the greenery that overflowed the pots running down the walls in an abundance of leafed waterfalls. The air crispier than a year ago when he arrived to Minas Tirith as a member of elven delegation where Elrond gave away Arwen's hand in marriage.

It was quite humbling to learn that she waited almost 3 thousand years to finally meet her soul match! In comparison his less than a thousand years long vigil was not that impressive. But it was a good way to form a connection, something special that only two of them could share and understand. Arwen was of course aware that his special lady was conceived* recently, in autumn 2 years ago. She was therefore encouraging him to embark on journeys and to get involved with big projects as she well remembered the impatience and temptation to speculate or brood while waiting for the unknown beloved to grow up, mature and the fate to throw them together. It was a sweet sort of suffering.

Face radiant with good cheer he strolled to the confectionery, the tiny bells chirping and announcing his arrival.

The establishment was clean as he expected and the shelves were only half filled as it was too early for the baking to finish. It looked good. It smelled even better. He swallowed the saliva and politely greeted the matron at the counter. This seemed to knock her out of her stupor launching her into a good natured discussion and betimes lecture on delights of each dessert.

"If you are truly shopping for Queen Arwen she will not thank you for the gift." Legolas' head whipped to the side following the husky voice. Standing rooted to the spot with a daze look he observed the newcomer.  _How? When? Why?_ Disjointed thoughts swirled in his head like a swarm of bees that was chased away from the hive by a sudden knock.

There she was. Speaking his words.  _Her._ Wiping her flour covered hands in the apron like it was a normal day. Like nothing extraordinary just happened.

The matron narrowed her eyebrows looking a touch displeased at the baker who in one breath managed to interrupt her while discouraging the client to buy.

"What? It's true. The queen is rumoured to be with a child that gives her a bitch of a morning sickness that frankly does not care if it's morning, afternoon or evening. I'm certain that the dark forest cake will meet with everyone's approval but the thing is... No one likes when it comes back, if you know what I mean." she finished in a hushed tone conscious of the owner mounting disapproval.

"Darcy!" the elderly woman scolded, her voice exasperated but still very warm.

Struggling to talk he drew on his rigorous training remembering all the drills how speak without showing inner nervousness. He aimed for calm and hoped it will not devolve in a frog croak "What do you propose, Lady Darcy?"

With a swish of the skirt she selected the cobalt glass jar pulling the cork out. "Give me your hand." she ordered but when he did not respond immediately she reached towards his palm turning it around.

Heart hammering in his chest, he tried to swallow and moisture his dry throat. He did not remember when was the last time he felt like an ungainly youth that was all bones, little coordination and no charm.

Patting the bottom, a cube landed on his hand. Taking it gingerly between his fingers he nibbled experimentally before chewing the whole piece swallowing it down.

"It is very... sweet and spicy." he tried carefully although what he really wanted to do was to drink a glass of water, or ale or wine.

"Yes, I know you don't like it" she huffed "It's an acquired taste but… It is an amazing nausea remedy. I swear. You can take a piece or two first if you don't believe me."

"No, no" he politely denied "I'll take all of it."

This was the matron time to gasp but she schooled her features quickly and in a steady voice delivered a price that would buy all of the cakes in any other shop. Before he refused and turned around on his heel, a scenario that she deemed very likely although truthfully that was the last thing he wanted to do, she explained the nature of the main ingredient that was imported from a land so far away it did not even have a name.

Lacking that kind of money at his disposal they hashed out the details of the later payment while in the background Darcy tied several ribbons around the jar. "Tell queen Arwen to have a candy every time she feels queasy."

"I will. Thank you Lady Darcy" he said as the candied ginger transferred hands.

"Just Darcy is fine master elf" she beamed right at him.

"Legolas Thranduilion" he corrected.

"Legolas" she carefully emulated putting an effort to copy the cadence and the exotic musicality.

"Na lû e-govaned vîn, Lady Darcy**" he bowed his head exiting the shop.

Going to the back she returned shortly with a curse dying on her lips. Grabbing the rusted chocolate cookie she meant to give him the whole time she run out of the door before the owner could advise her against it.

* * *

Ambling towards the uppermost level that housed the castle, Legolas was still in shock.  _How it's possible? She is already a woman? It shouldn't be and yet she is. And what a woman!_ Her eyes the colour of sky before the storm, a blue - grey mixture that could not be lovelier. The skin luminescent like the clearest moon and yet with a rosy hue. The carmine lips full and certainly kissable. Groaning, he spotted Darcy nipping at his heels. She advanced with skirts floating around while the close fitting bodice hugged her figure like a glove, chest full, waist narrow and hips wide - all delicious curves coveted by men - all of which were following her with their eyes.

That moment he should know, she will be the death of him. 

* * *

* Normally in the Soulmark universe the sentence appears on the birthday but as elves celebrate conception day instead of birthday I thought it a fitting adjustment.

** Until next we meet, Lady Darcy

Darcy is wearing an uncommon dress, never seen in the Middle-Earth. They tend to wear there, loose, flowing gowns but with her generous bust she commissioned a two piece dress, consisting of a tight bodice and a skirt. If you want a reference look for Laoghaire MacKenzie dress (Outlander)

Status: For now completed but might be revisited in the future.


	3. Chapter 3

Pacing around the square Legolas repeatedly glanced at the gaping entrance, the familiar interior and the wafting aroma mocking his nervousness.

Since the day his mark appeared he wondered many times when and how he will meet his beloved. He speculated on her characteristics: looks, traits and quirks but he did not even for a second thought how he was going to woo her. This was a great oversight on his part.

He was not particularly worried about it earlier considering how these meetings typically played out. Witnessing several of them in times when it lead to pain and later a hint of jealousy on his part he clearly recalled the initial shock giving way to awkwardness as the pair trudged through their first conversation. Nevertheless they quickly agreed to the second and third and then fourth meeting knowing full well what fate had in mind for them.

But humans did not have marks. That alone should signalled to him it will not be as straightforward.

In his defence, he could only say that he was lulled to a false sense of security by the poems glorifying and immortalising the only two love matches between Elven maidens and mortal men. Beren and Tuor fell in love as quickly as the ladies did or even quicker for the men claimed to fell in love at first sight while the Ellith* needed the first sentence to do so.

Arwen and Aragorn story also did not help the matter as it followed the same pattern.

Pulled out of his musings by the popping bones, he released the wrung hands and pressed them to the tunic hoping to calm the light tremble. Glancing around to check if anyone caught the slip he tensed at the matron amused expression and the knowing smile on her face.

 _Damn,_ he grimaced. He suspected the owner, a cunning woman, saw through his nonchalant talk and countless purchases for the king and the queen and discerned the real reason why he visited the establishment every single day. His somewhat distracted countenance and frequent glances towards the embroidered curtain from behind which Darcy emerged the last time must have been a dead giveaway.

Chin lifting he marched forward taking on the challenge issued by the matron's quirked eyebrow.

"Master Elf" she nodded her head in greetings forsaking the proper curtsy, a privilege granted by the advanced age and exerted due to the poor state of the knees' joints although she would never admit the latter out loud.

"Mistress Ferran" he returned politely, bowing deeper that her status warranted. One could never be too safe when dealing with the woman safeguarding the virtue of the lady one pursued.

Dreams and fears battling inside his head, he went quickly through options. He could either carry on, changing nothing in his behaviour and hoping for a more favourable outcome or he could put his pride aside for a second and try to enlist the aid of this formidable figure standing behind the counter. He had a feeling she liked him and his actions certainly entertained her so there was a chance that she would support him. On the other hand exposing himself like that carried the risk of being rebuked, proclaimed an unsuitable match for Darcy.

Undecided, he opened his mouth to try at some half - believable attempt to buy some time when an urchin zipped inside. Glancing at Legolas' elegant figure hesitantly, he bounced foot to foot, bursting in excitement when the owner nodded in permission. "The ships from Pelargir are here!"

Feeling instantly awake she threw a coin at the boy who caught it expertly, grinning before disappearing from the shop. "Darcy!" she shouted unmindful of the regular patron.

Heart pounding he released the breath he was holding when she lifted the curtain "You called?"

"Flint was here" she provided as an explanation, a sentence that made little sense on itself but clearly meant something specific to Darcy. Cheeks rosy half from the furnaces' heat and half from the news she exchanged the apron for the thick wrap, fastening a purse to the side.

Passing a wicker basket, the matron squeezed both of her arms "Just be careful at the harbour. It's not the safest place for a lonely girl."

"There wasn't a man born yet that I couldn't handle" she winked brushing away the worry.

"Darcy" she gave her a look of reproach.

Sighing she took the gnarly hands into her own "I'll be fine. I promise."

"Mistress Ferran is right. Port is not a safe place for an unaccompanied lady." he interrupted.

Bristling, her 21st century sensibilities through pissed off at the way women were treated in Gondor, she spun on the heel ready to launch a tirade on the gender inequity and discrimination. Her grandmother didn't burn her bra so she would be treated like a delicate flower.

"Let me escort you there." he gently offered oblivious to the simmering annoyance.

"What a marvellous idea!" the matron clapped. "With such a renown warrior at your side no one will even look at you the wrong way."

Clearly outmanoeuvred, she plastered a fake smile "Lead the way Master Elf."

* * *

*Ellith - plural of Elleth meaning elf - maid

Mistress - historically a term related to one's mastery of a trade or reserved to women with capital. There is an interesting article about this in NewStatesman but due to fanfiction set up I cannot paste a link here.


	4. Chapter 4

The moment they passed the building's corner that blocked the square Darcy's demure image, the tranquil smile and minced steps, transformed. With head high she overtook her self-proclaimed guard with a brisk trot ambling expertly between the people crowding the narrow passages. Coarse linen skirts held in one hand she maneuvered around horse dung and puddles alike mindful of the slick cobblestones and thankful once again for the serviceable leather boots she exchanged for her wicked trainers at the first opportunity.

Following close behind, Legolas stretched his senses trying to discern any potential threats in the chaos around. Truth to be told the city was not unsafe as such but… well…accidents happen. One could never be too cautious.

Taller than average human, it was easy to spy the brunette waves spilling in Darcy's wake while he moved through the throng. It left him somewhat distracted though, therefore he did not react quickly enough when an adolescent girl was pushed, tripping in front of him. Arm sneaking around her waist, he shielded her with his shoulders while walking her out of the crowd.

"Is everything alright miss?" he calmly inquired, good manners winning with the impatience that made him turn his head for a second towards the disappearing russet-green robe.

Taking a deep breath the girl looked at her saviour, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "Y-y-es m-master elf. I'm most grateful for your aide." she curtsied hiding her face in the bow.

"Very well then. Walk safely." He nodded turning and allowing the crowd to swallow him once again.

Not a minute passed and he cursed at his ingrained gallantry, Minas Tirith residents that suddenly decided to go out on the streets but most of all the impatient woman who was nowhere in sight.  _Rhaich!*_ He jumped landing gracefully on the wall. Running confidently on the thin ledge he neared the gate leading to the lower levels.  _At least I know where she is heading to._ He thought with a small amount of gratitude.

* * *

Darcy slowed down when she gleefully realised that the pesky,  _I think that all women are weak and needs to be protected,_ elf got lost. Just because she understood where he was coming from - cultural differences,  _duh_ \- did not mean she had to like it. The fact that he was doing exactly what was expected pissed her even more!  _And she couldn't even complain about it!_ Any hot blooded woman in this country would fall over herself to be attended by the ethereally beautiful creature, baby blue eyes, straw-blond hair and finely sculptured body that was stronger than it looked like if to believe the stories she heard during her time in the castle.

Well and so. Meeting Thor and then subsequently the rest of the Avengers even if briefly gave her some immunity to the preternaturally gifted and gorgeous. Watching the pictures of Loki - crazy, genocidal maniac Loki - who was no less stunning than his golden hearted brother offered some insight.

Even when they were physically dazzling there were all sorts of things hidden in their hearts, good and bad... Male chauvinist was never a sexy look on a guy anyw- she jumped startled by the figure that joined next to her, the jog turning into slower saunter to match her pace.

" _Oh!_ It's you  **again** , master elf" Exhaling deeply she lowered the hand she held over her heart.

Blinking he studied the rigid gait, the eyes purposefully looking forward, avoiding him…  _No, he did not imagine the displeasure._ "Have I offended you in any way my lady?"

Mentally preparing to lie to him, to assure that everything was fine she forced on a huge smile turning sideways. "I - "  _Oh hell, she couldn't do it_. She was always a terrible liar. That's one of the reasons why she had to learn to live with her foot in her mouth, perpetually. That at the fact that she did not believe in pretending to be someone else. It only leads to heartbreak and disappointment. Look at her parents for once.

He came with Darcy so he will get Darcy. "Yes, you did. You think me weaker just because I'm female.  **It's insulting beyond belief**."

"But you are." the automatic response slipped from his mouth.

Stopping in the tracks she cocked her head to the side. "So if I meet you in a dark alley it's me who'd lose during a confrontation?" she questioned in a breathless tone, hips swaying as she neared dangerously close to him. Bending her neck she stared deeply into his clear irises being obscured by the enlarging pupils. One hand almost but not quite yet skimming over his pointed ear she entwined a loose strand around index finger gently pulling down.

Swallowing he followed her lead, gaze glued to the red blooming on her lightly nipped lip.

"Then you'd be completely wrong" she whispered into his ear just before her knee shoot up hitting him when it hurts the most. Grabbing the hilt of his sword she instantaneously leaped back allowing the force to draw the weapon from the sheath.

Looking at the half - crumpled body, curled up and fighting the nausea down, she almost felt bad. Almost.

Naked steel close to his head she watched intently as he regained some bearings, the muffled moaning turning into wheezing sounds as he breathed through the clenched teeth. Pain gradually subsiding he finally looked up, face contorted and vary, eyeing suspiciously the razor sharp edge.

"Do you still think you'd win?" she smugly asked turning the steel slightly so that the sun would bounce off of it, reminding him of his position.

"No, my lady." he faltered taking her offered hand. While he sheathed his sword she wanted to beat some of the dust out of his tunic but the involuntary spasm stopped her midway "No? Too soon?"

Embarrassed by the action he quickly covered it with words designed to catch her attention "You, my lady, are not weak at all."

"Ha! I told Ya! Females are not frail. Granted, physically guys are stronger than girls. When you grow muscles we develop our delicious curves but brute force is not everything. There is technique, strategy, deception… It's no achievement to call women weak if you do not teach them how to fight properly."

"It's an elf's duty to protect. Father, brother, husband, they'll all happily give their lives for their families."

"Maybe so." she shrugged "But what with those that do not have fathers, brothers, husbands? Does it mean that a young girl has to marry swiftly, the first man who will take her, just so she can go to the market unmolested? It doesn't seem fair, does it?" she finished in a sad voice.

"It's the way of the world." he offered noncommittally.

"Fuck the world if what it wants is pliable, vulnerable females! It used to be the same where I'm from but it changed over time. Now if I want to learn how to beat crap out of a guy I can."

Having for the first time a chance to ask about her home he latched onto it firmly "Where are you from Lady Darcy?"

Pensively looking forward she winked at him dispersing the solemn mood "A land of freedom, equality and justice."

"Equality?"

"That and diversity, yes."

Half an hour later they arrived to the harbour deeply engrossed in a debate on the most important values in a healthy society. Sometime during that period he graduated from the master elf to "that's preposterous Legolas" - an achievement that gave him no small dose of happiness.

* * *

Later in the castle...

"There is a curious gossip traveling like a wildfire in the city" Aragorn mentioned nonchalantly as he handed Legolas a crystal goblet filled with ruby wine.

"There are all sorts of tales born from the sailors' drunken storytelling. What is so different about this one?"

"Well, for once it stars a young elf and a beautiful maiden…" Legolas slid on the armchair, covering his face with an arm while groaning in anticipation "... who kicked him in the nuts successfully incapacitating the offending party. The reason why the lady resorted to this is somehow muffled but all versions agree it wasn't nice." He sipped from his goblet before continuing in a stern voice "Is there something you'd like to share with me?"

Straightening he answered like a prince to the king, for this was a conversation where a monarch was inquiring about a subject "This was a simple misunderstanding. The lady took issue with me proclaiming her weak and in need of my protection so she decided to prove me wrong. Quite successfully." he added, pride colouring his voice.

"Any lasting damage?" Aragorn questioned in a softer voice mindful of Legolas delicate predicament. If his soulmate rejects him he will either fade or, considering that the sea already calls to him, sail to the undying lands.

Swaying the goblet he observed the swirling velvet answering in an even voice "The bruises will heal, my ego will mend and the lady…. I botched it Aragorn but not completely. It feels like I made a step back, and then back again but a step forward as well? There is an unfinished discussion I'd like to continue."

"About what?"

"Whether equality and diversity can simultaneously exist in a society" he touched the rim with a lopsided smile "Believe it or not, this is what interests her."

"That's not bad for the future queen of the Mirkwood elves."

Tilting the chalice, Legolas swallowed rest of the liquid. "Only if I succeed." he proclaimed while standing up, a new resolve settling over him.

* * *

* Means Curses in Sindarin

A/N - I woke up several days ago with an unquenchable desire to write more Darcy x Legolas and here it is. As always read and review :)


	5. Chapter 5

Legolas pulled at the rim of the cape alleviating the heavy pressure of the woollen fabric that dragged behind him while he wandered through the city. He escaped the castle well before the daybreak while the grey and the cold still reigned over the world. Wandering down from the king’s avenue to the main promenade leading to the more commonly used streets he peeked at and stepped into the alleys, investigating whatever caught his fancy. Anything to assuage his boredom and restlessness. 

Orbelain*, the first day of the week dedicated to the Valar, the powers of the world created by Ilúvatar, that helped to begin the shaping of Arda through the music of the One, was a day of rest and celebration during which no business was conducted. Sadly bakeries were closed as well. 

Stopping, Legolas kicked the pebble before turning around intent on… what? He wasn’t sure. His skin felt too tight. He wanted to claw at it and run through the forest at the same time; jumping over the fallen trunks, dodging the young, mischievous branches snagging at his clothes, outrunning the wind itself and hopefully his restlessness in the process as well. 

 _He really wanted to see Darcy._  

Shoulders sagging he released a long exhale. He was too old to be sulking in the middle of the street just because he couldn’t have what he wanted right this minute. It was just one day! 

Resigned, he took the first right hobbling through the maze of back alleys while a beginning of a plan how to survive until tomorrow formed in his head. 

Deep in thought but still alert on some level, he became aware of light steps coming most likely from some distance ahead. Although unsure due to the walls’ acoustics he hastened resolved to investigate the careful trot. It was his duty to inspect any suspicious activity especially if the person was going to the upper levels. That explanation sounded so much better than the sad truth that he was too unsettled to stay still. 

Hidden partially by the just-forming shade but mostly by the grey mist he spied a slight silhouette throwing furtive glances while cutting across the intersection, the burnished cloak blending well with the buildings while she.... yes, certainly a she considering the lush tresses escaping from under the hood that a milky hand held in place in spite of the chilly breeze… while she skulked forward in a suspicious manner.   

 _Wait!_ His eyes widened with alarm. _He knows that gait and the russet-brown dress showing from under the coat!_ Groaning he bolted out of the alley. _What on all Valar is she doing here! At this hour!_ Heart hammering he rushed after Darcy. 

Eyes glued and unblinking, he followed at a distance, his brows wrinkling in worry with each minute that passed. Thoughts jumbled he purposefully tried to avoid the obvious conclusion, unsuccessfully. 

 _What if she was going on an assignation?_  

Nails painfully biting into his hands, he observed like a hawk. He wasn’t aware of any suitors or lovers in her life but… he did not know her all that well. Just few, short days filled with brief meetings full of unspoken longing, hopes and dreams, at least on his part. 

Eyes hot, his lips pressed tightly as his mind travelled the dark paths governed by jealousy - all of his doubts and fears attacking at once - Darcy rebuking his advances choosing some faceless man instead… his hands on her hips as he planted a searing kiss waking her to the carnal desire. **NO!**  

...just no…. The Valar would never be that cruel. To bring him his soulmate only to immediately lose her. Forcing on a calming breath he paused at the entrance to the healing gardens. 

 _Curious and curiouser…. Is this a tryst hidden among the trees or a medical emergency?_  

It seems neither for she stopped at the entrance to the Biblioteca Lórien**, the only public library in Minas Tirith and the biggest one in Gondor. A repository that housed thousands of texts and manuscripts from all over the Middle - Earth, human, elven and dwarven alike, welcoming inside any and every one who was literate.      

Flushing he covered his mouth in embarrassment. _So obvious._ He smiled slowly as his spine straightened and he sauntered towards the main entrance. _Considering their discussion the other day he should have expected something like this. It explains the secrecy perfectly!_  

While all who could read were admitted to the library, the number of human females who could do that was very limited and firmly split in two groups. The first solely compiled of ladies from the highest echelons of the aristocracy, princesses, duchesses and marquesses, who came and went as they pleased surrounded by numerous attendants.  

Clearly Darcy did not belong to that cast. 

Rarely any lady below that rank could read. It was not a desirable trait in a wife. But it was a desirable trait in a courtesan, who was expected to perform on many levels including a stimulating and riveting conversation. They had to know all the classical poets and their work alongside philosophical treatises and any important news.  

He was positive that Darcy was not a concubine but anyone not knowing her could get a wrong idea… 

Marching onwards his curiosity mounted tenfold. He still did not know why she came here. 

Time to find out.

* * *

*Orbelain - chief-day - equivalent of our Sunday although this day is dedicated to the Valar or Powers (not the sun). Extended information here: <http://www.councilofelrond.com/content/modern-days-of-the-week-in-sindarin-and-quenya/>

**Biblioteca Lórien. As far as I understand no Valar is directly linked to knowledge therefore I decided that Imro (widely known as Lórien) who is the master of desires, dreams and visions is the 2nd best choice (thirst for knowledge anyone?). This building is inspired by Biblioteca Marciana - one of the oldest public libraries in the world that **was** accessible to women (albeit courtesans mostly - noble women did not read) - opened at the end of XVI century in _La Serenissima_ (Republic of Venice). I am not certain when they started to be admitted - this is something I learned from a guide in Venice (and can’t find in English on the Internet so… eh well…we will never know unless someone speaks Italian and can do the research, please?)


	6. Chapter 6

Gingerly setting aside the utilitarian quill, all shaft and no feathers, Darcy simultaneously exhaled and huffed. Until that moment she did not realise that irritated reprieve was a thing and yet this is exactly how she felt when she leaned back rubbing at the eyes hoping to dissipate the blurriness and the itching.   

Apparently writing was a taxing chore if you had to do it on a poor quality scrap of paper that could not even pretend to be a sheet while using a hand cut goose feather and a cumbersome inkwell, the black liquid threatening to spray at the slightest tremble. Doing so next to the gaping hole that let through copious amounts of morning light but did not protect at all from the chilling air was twice as hard. 

Snorting Darcy puffed at the stiff fingers rubbing some warmth into them. _Imagine that not so long ago sitting in a classroom with a chalkboard was the height of barbarian conditions._ Today she would kill for one, not necessarily the most clean tool but easily erasable and therefore indispensable during studying. Instead she had to put everything to memory the first time executing one or two tries on her very limited resources. 

Writing was expensive, a luxury occupation practiced only by few but no surprise there considering the price of a sheet of paper could feed a family for a substantial period of time. Not to mention the costs of quills, ink, inkwells, knives, writing tables etc. 

And yet in spite of her modest income the first non-essential thing she invested in was her education. Well, a bookworm by choice and predisposition, she really missed the ability to pick up and read a story at her leisure. 

“You’ll miss the cold in the afternoon.” a matter of fact voice pulled Darcy from her musings. 

“Ain’t that true!” she agreed looking at the wiry figure with fondness “I’ve no idea how you do it Master Owabryn.” 

“If you’d had as many years behind your belt as I, this would seem a zephyr, my dear.” 

“Brrrr” she mocked shivering ostentatiously “I can’t imagine this happening on any of the worlds!” 

Looking up the riposte was interrupted by a knock reverberating in the room. 

Abruptly the light-hearted mood disappeared as they stared at each other meaningfully. 

Tiptoeing Darcy tucked up her skirts hiding behind the monstrosity of a desk sprawled in the centre like a lazy lion basking in the sun, the wooden front completely obscuring her form after she crouched squeezing inside. 

Keeping her ears open she prayed silently that the elderly curator will be rid of the bothersome visitor quickly. _Can’t they leave him alone for one day?_ Avoiding obnoxious, chauvinist males that with one glance categorised her as a woman of lax morals and therefore available and jumping at a lift of a finger was exactly the reason why they moved her weekly lessons to this ungodly hour. 

Waiting she listened to the muffled conversation, the thick board blocking most of the noise rendering it incomprehensible. _Why is this taking so long?_ She strained her ears irritated. 

 _Wait..._ _Is that creaking leather? Are they coming closer?_ Her eyes widened as she followed the much heavier shuffling. _Of god!_ She groaned. Being found in a library was bad enough. Being found in a library crouching under head custodian’s desk was infinitely worse! God knows what the visiting scholar will think about the whole situation. _Oh right... she knows exactly what he will think!_ She squeezed her eyes shut waiting for the inevitable embarrassment followed by humiliation. 

Withholding breath, she noted the steps halting right in front of her but... nothing happened. The tension skyrocketing she did not stand the prolonged silence and peeked, her gaze travelling from the knee high boots and leather hugging muscular thighs to the loose tunic and incredulous face gaping pop-eyed. 

“Legolas?” she croaked. 

“Darcy? What are you doing?” 

“Ahaha” she laughed nervously “Visiting library.” 

“I mean under the desk.” he elaborated. 

Holding out her hand she asked in a small voice “Help me?” 

Taking the offered appendage but also supporting her under the elbow he boosted her up. While she straightened her skirts he patiently waited, his confused gaze jumping between the greatly respected scholar and the blushing lady. 

Clearing his throat he leaned expectantly. 

Shrugging she wrung her hands “It’s better if men don’t see me here.” she paused “There were incidences” but catching his darkening visage she hastily added “Nothing recently, just you know, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”  

“Is that so?” He asked in a carefully controlled tone, the growing anger simmering just under the surface. 

“Maybe Master Elf will be able to help you, my dear.” Owabryn interjected. 

“How so?” Darcy turned intrigued and where she looked Legolas’ eyes followed. 

“It’s common knowledge that elves educate all their children, male and female alike. If others were led to believe that you were fostered by one of the families your fascination with the written words would be chalked up to the unusual upbringing.”    

“Sounds nice but I can’t ask him to lie for me.” her eyes dulled. 

“If Master Elf would be amenable enough to accompany you several times here, this should be sufficient to plant the idea and cut any gossip.” 

“And they will not take my for an elf whore?” she asked suspiciously. 

“No, nothing of the sort” he waved dismissively. “Elves have no interest in this kind of women.” 

“Really?” she looked at Legolas with renewed interest asking sweetly “Will you help me?” 

“With what exactly?” he surveyed the room already guessing the answer. 

“With my writing lessons, obviously.” 

“I don’t know…” he teased. “What’s in it for me?” 

“Cookies?” she tried. “No….You don’t have much of a sweet tooth. Everything you bought was for the queen or the king.” she mused loudly tapping the finger on her lip. “I know!” she announced triumphantly “A kiss.” 

The tables turned “A kiss?” Legolas parroted, his brain freezing at such a delightful prospect… and unexpected. 

“Yes, do we have a deal?” 

He swallowed shaking his head, hopefully, in agreement. 

“Then better come a bit lower. I’m not a giraffe.” 

He complied not quite sure what to expect.

As kisses go it wasn’t anything special, an innocent brush on the ear to angle his jaw, a swift peck on the cheek, soft and warm but dry and yet his heart hammered threatening to burst while he felt the light press on his skin, nostrils full of the feminine smell.  

If she did not have him already that would definitely seal the deal.

As first kisses go this was perfect. 


	7. Chapter 7

“That wasn’t my question, Legolas.” Darcy delivered in a strained voice while her vibrating hands smoothed the thick vellum. It did not need straightening but she did it anyway and with such an unwavering attention as if stopping would lead to some catastrophic occurrence... a whacking done by the way of a folded scroll, let’s say. Indeed if not for the fact that the collection of poems was considered priceless with its sections painted in seductive carmine, royal indigo and vibrant malachite she would already do so two passages ago. 

“I know how to read pitchkettled! What I do not know is what it **means**.” she hissed through the teeth, gasps hot and shallow.  

Swirling the tepid infusion in a small cup Obawryn swallowed it in one swing. _How bitter._ Schooling the ugly grimace he walked towards the fuming girl and her pitchkettled* tutor, he thought with a level of amusement that did not show on his face. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt my dear but it’s time for my afternoon brew. I’d go myself but I fear that the distance might be too much for me today.” he smiled apologetically. “On the other hand if I fail to show at Mistress Hildegard door soon she will descend on this library like a mama bear whose cubs disappeared.” 

Jumping from the stool Darcy took a deep calming breath “We wouldn’t want that considering the last time…” her voice trailed off until she cringed dispelling the unpleasant memory “Yes, I’ll go.“ she declared in a flat tone. 

Collecting the tray and the empty cup she settled some more. Suddenly mindful that the elder scholar was not responsible for her foul mood, she hid her warm cheeks in a clumsy curtsy.  “With pleasure.” she added before leaving the room.  

Brows drawing together Legolas’ gaze followed the disappearing woman before going distant. Wilting he made a slight shake with his head. _He will never understand Darcy._  

“She tricked you as well.” Obawryn announced with a gleam in his eye shuffling closer. Small delighted smile playing on his face he tilted his head inspecting the elf with renewed interest. Due to the close examination he did not miss the dark look hardening into an impassable mask and yet he was still surprised by the raised words that followed. 

“I won’t stand for offending the lady. You’ll apologise this instant!” the prince ordered piercing him with an unforgiving stare, the years of amicable trust and respect straining in the cold void that opened between them. 

“Sîdh Ernil Legolas**” he opened his palms in a calming manner “I meant it as a highest praise. She managed to fool you or convince you, if you prefer. One that learned common tongue ages ago and then re-learned it as it changed. Remarkable.” He mumbled under his nose shaking his head. “Did you know Darcy is not from around here?” 

“I knew she is not native.” Legolas started hesitantly “She does not speak like Gondorians or Rohirrim. I admit I’m not familiar with coastal speech considering the danger of stirring the Unquiet of Ulmo...” he lowered his voice at the name of the elven malady “but I assumed she migrated from a small seashore village when people headed towards big cities during the war.”

“No, she didn’t.” Turning his back he treaded towards the inner courtyard grabbing a cane on the way. “Walk with me.” 

Curiosity ignited by the simple admission Legolas hurried after the hunched scholar. Taking him by the free arm he babbled “How do you know this? Where is she from? How did she get here?” 

“I don’t know… exactly. My dear friend and at times torturer” he stated with affection “Mistress Hildegard introduced us. She asked me to check if the girl understands Sindarin or Quenya after she failed to respond to Westron. I don’t like to remember what state Darcy was in the first time I met her but considering the head of healing house was personally overseeing her treatment you can imagine how serious it was.” Looking into Legolas darkening eyes he cut across the sunny lawn “Not surprisingly she didn’t understand a word I was saying. Nor did she recognise Khuzdul. We’ve even tried a curse or two in the Orcs language! Can you imagine? Obviously it meant nothing to her.” he assured. “On top of whatever tragedy befallen her, Darcy was uncommunicative but not _mute._ ” 

Pulling Owabryn to a stop Legolas asked confounded. “Didn’t you just say she was unresponsive?”

“Yes and no.” he nodded left and right before resuming the hobble. “She was talking in a language that no one understood. In any case the nursing ladies taught her the common tongue.” Arriving at the half shaded area he planked himself on a stone bench and finished with a wink “Apparently to the level that she fooled you.” 

“So when she said she doesn't understand…” 

“She truly didn’t. Next time explain describing the term in a simple definition with several, full sentences as examples and I promise you she won’t ask again. She is bright our Darcy, she is. And strong.” 

Anxiety twisting Legolas’ guts he lowered next to the elder man “Was she hurt during the Battle of the Pelennor Fields?” 

“No. I’ve met her months before the final battle. She was well enough in late winter to help during the besiege.” 

 _Ohhh…_ he deflated in relief. _That’s why I didn’t meet her in the healing houses._ “Help how?” 

“The lass could barely string two words together and yet she built a clever device to count.  She calls it **liczydło.** **** With its use she adds, subtracts, multiplies and divides faster than anyone I’ve ever met. Faster than the chamberlain and seneschal. Truly ingenious. Remind me later and I’ll show you.” he enthusiastically offered. 

Biting the lower lip Legolas backtracked to the previous topic “Do you know what happened to her?” 

Shoulders dropping he wordlessly denied “Whatever it was it must have been a terrible tragedy.” Waving at the flushed girl that emerged from the portal he hurriedly added in a hushed tone “Don’t ask her about it. She gets very sad when we try to find out more.” 

* * *

I hope you liked. I consider reviews/comments Christmas/new year’s gifts so please leave as many as you like :) 

* pitchkettled - puzzled in middle english (medieval english)

** Sîdh Ernil Legolas - peace Prince Legolas in Sindarin

*** Unquiet of Ulmo - sea-longing

**** liczydło (pronounced  ljiˈʧ̑ɨdwɔ) - I decided not to use english to describe a word in a language alien to Middle Earth. I used my native language instead. Liczydło means abacus.


	8. Chapter 8

“I swear to the Valar next time I’ll dump you like yesterday’s trash if the same thing happens at the next merchant.” Darcy’s dress swept the cobblestones as she turned on the heel cutting Legolas with a piercing look. “It’s not that they bow to you first - only Valar know why - but the fact the moment they see you it's _ka-ching_ _moment_ and the price increases twofold! Look at this basket.” she poked him with the wicker rim. “I paid half the Tharni* for the same produce last week **when I was alone.** ” She withdrew the container before he snatched it from her hand even though they already had words why she was perfectly capable of carrying her own shopping. Freezing mid step, a predatory smile split her face “I’ve got a better idea. You’ll stay at least ten paces behind from now on.” 

“Unacceptable, Lady Darcy.” he protested “I won’t be able to protect you from the distance.” 

“You’ll think of something.” She flippantly dismissed his worry before picking up the skirt and veering around the central market. Checking discreetly above her shoulder whether Legolas complied with her decree she neared an unassuming stall that belonged to the local fisherman. 

Putting the lithe elf out of her mind, even though he looked positively enthralling while leaning casually on the building, she greeted the trader with a low nod. It never hurt to showcase her attributes when negotiating with a male. Especially when said man was selling the freshest and tastiest mackerels in the whole kingdom. Smiling widely she spun the subtle trap.

Tracking Darcy with the intensity of a hunting hawk Legolas crossed his arms. Scanning the crowd with a deceptively blank look, the wood creaked while he shifted weight restlessly pricked by uneasiness, each mirthful giggle and teasing banter a source of a twinge. Losing patience he slipped close to the pair catching the end of the conversation. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked coolly scowling at the cheerful familiarity shared by the two. 

“Can you imagine that this seasoned professional, the best in the city, never saw a pink fleshed fish?” Darcy shook her head. 

“The mistress would like to have the sweetness of raspberry and substance of meat in one being. Even the Valar didn’t imagine such creature.” the fisherman added jovially. 

Pouting Darcy specified “It’s not that intense. The colour is more between a berry and an orange. It seems no one in the city heard about it.” She sighed tugging Legolas sleeve to follow her retreat. Turning around at the fork she waved for the last time before continuing “You’d think finding some would be the easiest thing but I’ve been asking around for weeks and no one seem to know anything.” she kicked a pebble. 

Brightening she challenged with a glint in the eye “Last one at the top is a rotten egg!” she surged with a squeal and to an affectionate amusement of an elf who was tracking her progress with a lazy smile. 

_3….2….1…._ he counted impatiently before flinging himself in pursuit. _No amount of head start will save her from him!_ Manoeuvring between the crowd he swallowed the gap with joyful abandon, his laugh fuelled by Darcy’s delicious squeaks when she caught on his progress.  

“Do you want to surrender?” he suggested sweetly measuring her with a cocky arch. 

“Never!” she huffed, exposing her calves in the last, desperate bid to victory.  

Easily matching pace he was enraptured by the visage; glowing cheeks, tousled hair, flashing eyes. Heart skipping a beat, he unconsciously reached out, craving the warmth of her flesh, the sweetness of her scent, the moisture of her breath. 

Distracted, in the haziness of desire, he narrowly missed colliding with a wagon. Jumping out of its way in the last possible second while not the most graceful move it was certainly effective however it gave Darcy advantage in the most opportune moment. 

That’s how she came to brag not only about tasing a god but also outrunning an elf. 

“Next time you’ll win” she patted his back consoling the sullen elf. 

* * *

A/N – Early Happy New Year gift! 

* Tharni - silver coin in Gondor -¼ of a Castar


	9. Chapter 9

Sliding fresh batch of cream filled pastries Darcy wasn’t sure if she wanted to beat the impromptu congregation of insipid cheerfulness that took over the corner of the shop with the baking sheet or simply snarl at them. With each high pitched exclamation or remark her eyelid twitched becoming the only visible indication of her annoyance and a testament to her self restrain. Snapping while a tempting option was bad for business therefore she had to settle for inner commentary.

“I’ve heard the dwarves are already working on the jewellery sparing no expense.” the young girl delivered in a tone that had more in common with a slaughtered pig than the air of hushed confidences “Gold and silver is flowing to the city like a river together with the baskets of amber, coral and pearls from the coast.”

“ _Pish_ ” the taller one with freckles scowled dismissively. If Darcy was in a charitable mood she would applaud the common sense but she was not therefore she noted, with a small amount of ill fitted glee, that the grimace diminished what little beauty the speaker had “the most you’ll see from _that_ is a leaf wrought in brass. My brother told me Rohirrim equestrians will arrive and deliver a show that of which has not yet been seen in Gondor. That is why men are hauling threes to the plains - to build an arena.”

“Not so.” the one with her back to Darcy contradicted “It’s for the stage for the troupes and troubadours that are going to perform throughout the night. They even say elves might descend from the castle to play and sing among the people. _To hear one!_ ” she exclaimed with eyes closed and a dreamy face.

“Pigs will fly before that will happen.” The sarcastic one interjected nipping the foolish discussion in a bud. The first children didn’t care for human celebrations. “But I’ll agree there might be dances and plays planned for the whole night. The inn owner that used to live next to us said the city had to order beer from the neighbouring villages.”

“Oh la. I am so lucky Cirion returned with the last trip and is not yet due to board ship.”

“Really?” the quiet one interrupted with interest “Do you think he will mind if I join your company for the evening?”

“Have you met my brother?” she eyed her friend skeptically teasing the innocent soul before adding with a cunning glint. “He won’t and even if he tried… mom and I will make sure he will come to our way of thinking.”

“You’re a life saver! What would I do without you!?”

“Spent the night sleeping in your home most likely.”

Carelessly dropping final pieces on the shelf to the accompaniment of the merry laugh, Darcy lost the desire to eavesdrop. Dropping the tin to the side she considered retreating behind the curtain but the vision of the oppressive heat reigning in the back room put her off the idea. Instead she leaned the utensil on the counter before escaping through the main door.

 _Much better._ She took a generous breath that smelled of freshly baked bread and new blossoms that prompted her to meander around in search of elusive flowers that have been cropping steadily since the winter left. Spying bold daffodils and alluring hyacinths she was won over by the clusters of sapphire crocuses that spread over the beds like some sort of magical aqueduct.

Gazing longingly at the women perching on the fountain rim she pressed a fist to her lower back hoping to discreetly rub some of the discomfort away. While sitting down preferably with a cold compress on her neck would do her a world of good she wasn’t quite certain if the makeshift contraption she fashioned out of some rags and dried moss would survive that much of movement.

 _Still,_ it was a better solution than the one suggested to her in the beginning. Put on the red petticoats to hide the stains, strap on the pouch of sweet-smelling herbs around the waist to neutralise the odour and hope no one will look at your feet and note the scarlet droplets you leave at your wake. _How charming,_ she snorted.

 _On the other hand the red petticoats would be very useful just about now,_ she tried to ignore the hollow ache that settled in her thighs, as if the gravity decided to fix her to the ground, while pondering how to tactfully pat her back in check of spots. _Hmm…_

“How fortuitous that we meet Lady Darcy.” she jumped startled out of her musings by the lively greetings. Turning to the side she regarded Legolas from top to bottom, her improved mood vanishing as she marked his pristine state, neither a hair out of line, nor a crease marring his shirt, while she felt blotched, uncomfortable, unattractive. Ugly. If there was a day when she didn’t want to meet him more than today, she couldn't think of one. 

“Don’t you have any other tunics?” she cocked her head to the side tone sharp.

Stiffening he frowned, hesitant note entering his voice “What’s wrong with this one?”

“It’s green.” she deadpanned.

“I happen to like the colour.”

“OK.” she shrugged, the silence stretching between them awkwardly until Legolas tried again.

“Are you preparing for the festival?”

“What?” She threw him a blank look for which he answered indicating the flower she was scenting but a minute ago. Of course … he meant the spring flower festivities that the whole city was talking about… has been talking about for the last week; attractions, performers, best places to get ribbons or to accessorize.

“Don’t you want to be a Lothron* queen?” he picked the sapphire bell fastening it behind her ear “With that you’ll certainly win.” he assured with a soft smile that brightened his baby blue eyes.

“Thanks but no.” she removed the foolish addition crumpling it in her hand “No amount of adornments, not even a make over session with Trinny and Susannah would help that cause. Regardless. I’m not going.”

“Why ever not?” he asked surprised. Every girl in the city was talking, breathing, living the Lotron festival. He himself secretly hoped he will be able to steal a dance or two from Darcy.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I have to bake hundreds of almond filled pastries same day and will be dead tired before the party even starts. Or because I don’t have anything suitable to wear. Or I can’t dance.” she said louder and louder “And wait” she put a finger in the air “for my favourite. I don’t have a father, brother, cousin, uncle or any other distant male relative that will play a chaperon. Men here are so poorly brought up they mistake alone for available and interested. **So no, thank you very much, but I am not going.** ” she vehemently declared turning on the heel, disappearing inside.

Stunned, Legolas was rooted to the spot - _what just happened?_

 

*Lothron - May or flower month in Númenórean calendar (used by men including  Dúnedain - the latter use Sindarin version). In medieval England it was common to have festivals once a month and in May a queen of May was chosen and villagers danced around the maypole. 

Reviews, comments and kudos as always are much appreciated.


	10. Chapter 10

Grasping handles tightly Darcy pushed the pin across the dough, rolling vigorously. She has been looking out for Legolas the past several days, first by straining her ears waiting to be called out and then by shamelessly eavesdropping whenever the commotion behind the curtain suggested it might be him visiting. But, as the time has shown, it was to no avail. Stupid elves with their stupid pride, she pressed harder, breath fast and shallow as she flattened the pastry with short, angry strokes.

Dammit!, her hand slipped tearing a gap in the perfectly round piece. Now what he made me do, she dumped the rolling pin with a huff. Pacing irritated she took deep breaths, each slower than the previous one. Calming herself down she sank into a stool.

Who was she kidding? She wasn’t angry with Legolas but herself for the stupid outburst that had nothing to do with him and yet still managed to drive him away. Clasping hands together she hoped it wasn’t too late to take it all back.

Startled by a knock, Darcy’s brows crept together. They rarely had visitors at the back door and never at this hour. Hiding an iron pan in the folds of her dress she skulked towards the door, opening a narrow gap.

“Legolas!” she cried out in surprise “What brings you here?”

“I hope I’m not intruding.” he asked in a soft voice head bowing.

“Not at all! Come in.” Darcy spread the doors wide open. Discretely losing the makeshift weapon she run her fingers through the tresses hoping to conquer the most unruly ones before she spun back with a wide smile. “What can I do for you?”

Taking a step forward, Legolas cleared his throat eyes piercing her intently “I’m not certain how I offended you the other day my lady but I’d like to apologise.”

“Oh, Legolas.” Darcy rushed squeezing his hands “It’s me who should be apologising. I’ve had a bad day and took it out on you. You didn’t deserve my ire. Will you forgive me?” she asked blush painting her cheeks.

“There is nothing to forgive” he grinned. “In fact, I have a gift for you.” he presented her with the basket he set on the floor earlier on.

Looking inside Darcy untied the twine parting the leather folds. What? Taking a second look her eyes lit brightly before she threw herself at Legolas hugging him closely “I’ve been looking for it for ages. Where did you find it?”

“Traders from up north arrived to the castle yesterday bringing all sorts of things with them. I’m sorry I could get my hands only on the smoked one. It’s too far for a fresh fish to arrive unspoiled.”

“Are you kidding me? Smoked salmon is the best!” Darcy took out the package walking towards the working table “I’m hoping you are planning to stay for breakfast.”

“I don’t think it would be appropriate” he said looking around the room self-consciously noting for the first time they were quite alone there.

“Don’t be silly.” she ignored his concerns “Have you eaten already? No. Then you have to stay. I insist.” she pulled a bowl adding two eggs and a sprinkle of salt and pepper in it.

Pursing lips in thoughts he nodded hesitantly “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Actually, you can tell me what you’ve been up to these several days” Darcy suggested in a light voice.

Following her deft moves he sat comfortably not too far from her launching into a lively story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's been over a year since I started this story and 6 months since I last updated! Apologies for the long wait.


	11. Chapter 11

“Darcy, what on earth are you still doing here?” the stock matron exclaimed bursting in the backroom, the throng of helpers parting as she advanced.

Taken aback by the charge and the nose wrinkled in mild displeasure Darcy frowned “I was keeping an eye on the last batch.”

“Bah” the elder woman snorted dismissively “You think yourself the mistress of the bakery now?

Cheeks flushing with red she blurt out “No! Off course not but…”

“There are no buts about it. You were supposed to smarten up for the delivery to the castle and yet here you are standing caked in dough, flour and other whatnots.” she complained pounding at the dirty sleeves.

Taking a step back, Darcy escaped the not so gently ministrations. Untying the apron that protected her skirts she returned it to its proper place, a hook next to the entrance that led to the living quarters which luckily for her was quite a distance from mistress Ferran. “Ok ok I’m going now” she assured in a calm voice.

“Clean yourself up properly with the soap and the towel I’ve left in your room. And put that new dress that’s on your bed. And by all the Valar comb flour out of your hair so you won’t look like a peasant who just had a tumble in a crate of it!” she shouted at the base of the stairs.

Standing at the threshold of her chamber Darcy groaned at the sight of the bathtub that had more in common with a large basin and would allow her at most to crouch in it if she was up to some creative gymnastics. Which she typically was not considering the water temperature oscillated between merely cold on a good day to mind - numbing freezing on any other but considering the occasion some sacrifices had to be made.

Tying her tresses into a high knot she lit candles before securing the door and the shutters. Rid this way of the unwanted drafts she stripped and gave herself the quickest but at the same time most through bath in the history of all baths.

Once the whole lathering, scrubbing and rinsing, not to mention combing and brushing was completed and put out of the way she finally tiptoed towards the bed in anticipation. She was enough of a woman to be excited at the prospect of having new garments and when said garments were tied to the obligation of visiting the royal seat, you could be certain that some serious quality was involved.  

“What the…?” Darcy whispered fingertips stroking the thick textile. She expected quality but this was past extravagance, improper, scandalous. On the other hand, the line and the style clearly indicated it was meant for her. She was the only one in this city demanding sturdier support in the chest area.  _ Hmm, clearly not a mistake but the velvet… _

Shrugging, she decided to leave it for now. It was too beautiful not to wear and besides she was ordered to put it on so clearly there is no harm in doing that.

Some minutes later descending to the ground floor she presented herself with a twirl and a smile. “How do I look?”

Laying the flowers on the table the elderly woman hid her prideful grin and grumbled “Half ready.”

“Wait. What?” Darcy complained with a groan “I’ve scrubbed and rubbed and brushed until I was sick of it. I’m not going back to that friggid water” she crossed arms refusing to budge an inch.

“Come have a seat” mistress Ferran gently ordered, indicating the stool. Once Darcy reluctantly done so she braided and while she braided she also explained “It’s tradition that on this day to honour the coming of the spring every girl in the land plaits flowers into her hair. To forego it would be a social blunder. It’s best and most prudent to avoid scandal, especially today.”

“You should relax a bit. I’m just going to deliver some pastries to the kitchen. I’ll be gone before anyone even notice I was there. It’s not like I’m going to meet with royalty.” Darcy weakly joked but was met with simple “It’s done.”

“Already? You’ve made it sound like it was a big thing so I was expecting an elaborate bun that takes ages.”

“As maiden you’re expected to have your hair half loose. Not much to do when it is a simple twist adorned by the blue and white blossoms that are fortunately complementary both to your dark tresses and the navy gown.”

“Actually about that gown…” Darcy hesitantly started “Where did you get it?”

“It’s a present” the matron announced matter of factly.

“We can’t afford it.” the younger woman declared, her voice laced with regret.

“I never said it was from me.” she quipped before a knock at the front door garnered her attention. “Your suitor is here.”

Eyes widening with alarm Darcy rushed after the retreating woman. Grabbing her by the wrist she stopped her in the tracks. “I don’t have a lover.” she spoke in a sharp tone, anger boiling inside. Some things were never done in Gondor. Entering a liaison while unmarried was on top of that list for females.  

“Of course not.” she amenably agreed “but there is one who’d like to change that.” she pulled releasing herself from the lax hold.

Overtaking the stocky figure, Darcy blocked the entrance “I’m not interested in men.”

“Then it’s good he isn’t one” mistress Ferran riposted with a twinkle of amusement.

Flushing, Darcy opened the doors in a wide swing “Legolas. What a nice surprise!” she threw an accusatory glance at her employer and betimes caretaker while letting him through. “I’m afraid we’re closed for the business tonight. Most of what we had we’ve already send to the festival and what‘s here I have to take to the castle.”

Coughing mistress Ferran corrected “The pastries are on their way to the castle.”

“But…” Looking between Legolas and the matron Darcy eyes ignited. Shoving the cunning woman back where they came from she barred the entrance with a polite excuse.

“You set me up.” she hissed barely above whisper pacing back and forth.

Sitting on the stool she straightened the leg that was starting to bother her due to all the jostling “It’s more accurate to say I enabled both of you to fulfill your hearts’ desires.”

“I never said I wanted to seduce Legolas!”

“An interesting train of thought but that’s not what I meant. You’ve been moping around about the Lotron festival for the last two weeks snapping at anyone who dared to mention it in your presence. It’s quite apparent that you want to go. Why are you so opposed to going there with him? He clearly wants to considering his influence helped me to get enough staff that we did not have to work day and night. He also got you that lovely dress which obviously was produced taking into account your needs and preferences.”

Pausing for a moment Darcy allowed the message to sink while her ire evaporated “I know when I’ve been outmaneuvered but for the last time he is not my suitor. He is my  **friend** .”

Leaving that without a response mistress Ferran still could not resist a final jab and delivered in an amused voice “You realise that thanks to his keen senses, master elf heard every word of this conversation.”

Tensing Darcy pressed her lips together and marched in studying Legolas in the new light. Suitor, _pfft_.  Ridiculous she wanted to say but there was something in his eyes that hinted at vulnerability and called out to her heart so with her typical ease she teased. “I’ve heard you helped with the business and sorted out the dress just so you could get me alone in the dark.”

Tips of his ears heating Legolas offered his palm “It will be me pleasure to escort you to the festival.”

Linking their arms instead Darcy cautioned as they left “I still don’t know how to dance so you might want to look out for your toes.”


End file.
